Sacrifices Made, Pleasures Denied
by omega.whiskey
Summary: Oneshot of Adelle and her thoughts during a night with Roger.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Dollhouse and I'm making no profit off of my little one-shot. Fox is controlled by bastards who don't appreciate art. Joss Whedon is the love of my life. And I always feel so bad for Adelle...even when she makes the wrong choices.**

**P.S. I wish I could have Victor in _my_ bed. :(**

**Love,  
Omega**

* * *

Life was lonely. Life was hard. Letting people in only made it worse becaue you couldn't trust people. They were stupid and careless, like a herd of frightened, silly sheep. The best way to deal with them was with firm superiority. That's why she liked her discrete weekends with him and simultaneously hated herself for stooping so low. He wasn't real and so there were no complications.

At the same time, he wasn't real and she was creating enough complications to fill a Russian novel.

She had worked too hard to get to where she was, only to have it slip away. This was her life. There was no room for anything, or anyone, else, no matter how broken and alone she felt inside. To everyone else, she had in image and a reputation to maintain. Outside of her weekends with him, she displayed cold, ruthless efficiency. No one knew anything existed beneath that hard veneer of stone.

With him, she had never needed to worry about her image. He had loved her and her life couldn't get any better. Things could always get worse, and they had, leaving her completely changed.

Looking out at the soothing waves of the Pacific, she closed her eyes, the wind tugging at her corn silk blue robe and causing loose strands of chestnut hair to tickle at her skin. The scent of shaving cream and sandalwood wafted towards her and tanned, toned arms wrapped around her trim waist.

"Come back to bed." He whispered, his breath caressing her ear.

"We just left it." Yet she smiled nonetheless. He had always been able to make her smile, no matter what he said. It was his very presence, his charm and elegance that made her smile.

He drew down the shoulder of her silken robe, kissing her pale shoulder. "So come back. You're so far away. You're in my arms and I find myself missing you."

God, how she wished he were real. He had the memories, the mannerisms, the damn accent, but it wasn't him. He'd been gone for so very long-and she hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye. She had never felt happier than when she was with him, only to foolishly give him up and ultimately lose him. Was the sacrifice worth it? Was the loneliness and the pain worth it all?

"I miss you, too." She whispered, leaning back against his muscled torso. He'd always been exceedingly fit, but he should have been four inches taller, his frame just a little more slender. They could give him the memories and the mannerisms, but they couldn't change the body. Not like that.

Once upon a time, she had a moral compass, she mused, back when she had been studying medicine. She possessed qualms that would make her back away from a situation, analyze and reanalyze it until she found the best solution. Then she'd been offered the job with a research facility of Rossom, and the shades of grey began taking over. Adult stem cell research was minimally invasive. No one was hurt. Then research had turned to embryonic stem cells. You blinded yourself with clinical terms to prevent yourself from thinking of them as human beings. They were harvesting stem cells from a fetus, not a human being. But then, even that line had begun to blur. What was wrong with using human beings to help other human beings? They weren't concious of their existence. They were blissfully unaware and then it was all over. No harm done.

He had been furious as she progressed in her research, saying she was becoming as morally depraved as the rest of the world. Then Rossum offered a promotion, pleased with her cool, clinical approach. He threatened to expose the work she had confided to him, destroy Rossum and leave her if she took the job. Her choice had already been made and Rossum decided to take care of the threat. She hadn't found out about it until much later.

Loneliness leads to nothing good, only detachment, she thought to herself as she continued with her introspection. And sometimes the people who most need to reach out are the people least capable of it. This is why I spend these weekends in self-delusion and self-pity and I spend the week with a well-stocked bar.

"I can't keep lying to myself like this." She said softly, shaking her head, her dark waves tumbling around her shoulders.

"What do you mean? You aren't making any sense at all, darling." He nipped lightly at her earlobe. "What's going on?"

"So much. Too much to even begin to understand." She turned around in his embrace and looked up at him. "Just love me for tonight. Let's make it last, shall we?"

"I love you every night and every day." He murmured, drawing her closer into his arms and kissing her tenderly. He led her back into the bedroom and she lay down, welcoming him into her arms once more, even as her heart was bidding him the goodbye she had never been able to give. And tonight it would goodbye. There would be no more moments of weakness, no more discrete weekends. No more lies.

The next morning, he was gone and she walked back into work, not sparring a single glance for the empty minds around her. There was no room for weakness after all that she had done and all that she had surrendered. There was only room for success. She was Adelle DeWitt and this was her Dollhouse.


End file.
